


Schrödinger's Cat

by gonta



Category: Dangan Ronpa, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Comedy, Fluff, Gen, I mean sort of??? lol, M/M, POV Third Person, also really silly as usual but i'm not sure about crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 14:52:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9128818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gonta/pseuds/gonta
Summary: Hoshi confides in Gokuhara.Of course, everyone else completely misinterprets this.[WRITTEN BEFORE DRV3'S RELEASE, MAY CONTAIN INACCURACIES]





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably my longest canon-focused fic to date (no, dr:doa doesn't count because it's about ocs), and has been in the works for a while. I know the pairing is kind of strange, but just go with it ok  
> thanks to @starrynova as usual for test reading and giving me some ideas!! check out their Gokuhara backstory fic, it's really damn good

Gonta Gokuhara feared death twice in his life. The first was during a particularly bad winter spent with his wolf family, when a group of human hunters roamed the woods and shot several wolves he knew. And the second time was right now, as he was being dragged down the hallway by Ryoma Hoshi. Though the tennis player stood at a measly 3’1” and could probably fit into children’s clothes, his grip on the small area of Gokuhara’s hand he could hold was like an iron clamp. He wasn't as educated about Hoshi’s past as some of his other classmates, but he would be lying if he said he hadn't heard bad things about him. Things about murder that made Gokuhara gulp. 

Hoshi had approached the entomologist in the library, as he was focused on a dense-looking textbook. Though he had only given him a light tap on the shoulder to get his attention, it had been enough to make Gokuhara jump. Hoshi’s hands were exceptionally cold. 

“Huh? Do you need something, Hoshi-san?” Gokuhara turned to face him, but stopped short at the sight of his expression. Though normally he wore a soft, amused look, there was none of that there now. Hoshi’s face was clouded over, his eyes deep, black pits of ink. Mentally, Gokuhara ran through the list of interactions he had had with him before, and tried to parse whether or not he had done anything bad enough to warrant this death glare. But he couldn't think of anything. “Erm… is there something wrong?” 

“Come with me. I need you for something,” With a quick movement of his wrist, Hoshi suddenly had a few of Gokuhara’s fingers in his hand and was somehow dragging him out of the library. It seemed as though he was a lot stronger than he had initially thought, as Gokuhara practically had to struggle to keep his footing. His mind immediately went to the time Hoshi told everyone about his career as a vigilante killer, and felt his heart speed up in his chest. Was Hoshi going to kill him? 

As the two made their way down the hall, they passed Ouma, who was loitering around. Sensing a way out, Gokuhara mouthed “Help” in the supreme leader’s general direction. While Ouma appeared to understand his meaning, he proceeded to insist on being his typical unhelpful self. “I’ll write your eulogy, Gokuhara-chan!” he called after him, and Gokuhara sighed in muffled exasperation. Sweat dripped down his face, and the entomologist began to pray - though he wasn't sure to whom. Dear god. 

 

They eventually came to a halt in the lodging area, in front of Hoshi’s door. As Gokuhara had never been inside, the only reason he could tell that it was his was from the crudely drawn portrait of him on the front. There was one on every door, and Gokuhara often wondered who drew them, but that wasn't important now. 

Hoshi gave Gokuhara a quick nod. “Go in,” was all he said, and he was inclined to obey. There was something in Hoshi’s deep voice that made the remark come out far more commanding than he likely intended it. 

Hoshi’s room wasn't as terrifying as Gokuhara was expecting, but it still made him a little disconcerted. A few posters for what appeared to be metal bands were hung lopsided on the walls, and there were a few open boxes of salmiakki scattered about. His tennis racquet rested against a bookshelf, and his infamous steel tennis ball rested on top. Gokuhara gulped, looking over its slightly bloodstained surface. At least it was here and not in Hoshi’s hand. That had to be a good sign, right?

The tennis player followed behind him, locking the door shut with a click. Gokuhara froze. That was most certainly  _ not _ a good sign. Hoshi looked unperturbed, though, and merely nodded towards the boxes of salmiakki. “You can have one, if you want,” he muttered, not really paying attention to Gokuhara’s darting eyes and general nervousness. Afraid to let him down, he popped one of the candies in his mouth - and promptly began to gag on its astringent, salty taste. How did Hoshi eat this stuff?

Hoshi seemed to sense his discomfort, and turned a lazy eye towards the entomologist. “Oh, good. That means you’re still fresh and naive.”

“What… pardon me, but what does that have to do with anything?” Gokuhara pressed his fingers together nervously. 

“Nothing, really. It just means I can trust you with this,” 

“Huh?”

And yet again, he was staring straight into Gokuhara’s eyes. He felt himself beginning to sweat a little. He had read about how scientists had created a color called vantablack, that was supposed to be a black so black that it didn’t occur in nature. But it would seem as though they were wrong, as it was the exact color of Hoshi’s eyes. And that was very uncomfortable to look at. (Later he would make a remark about this to Angie, who would then say something about someone named “Stuart Semple” that he didn’t understand) 

“Before I show you this, you need to take an oath of confidentiality. If word of it gets out, everyone would think even lower of… someone like me,” he lowered his voice considerably, which Gokuhara thought was unnecessary since the dorm walls were soundproofed anyway. “So? Are you willing to consort with a murderer?”

Gokuhara stiffened. “Gonta promises not to tell! But… what exactly are you talking about? You still haven’t really told Gonta what this is about.” 

Hoshi put a hand on his face and murmured something unintelligible under his breath. Before the entomologist could ask him to repeat what he said, though, he had walked over to his bed and proceeded to flip up the covers. Looking particularly embarrassed (as embarrassed as someone whose facial expressions were as nuanced as his could look), he squatted down next to the bed. Gokuhara was prompted to follow suit, and… 

 

What he saw made him gasp. It wasn’t what he was expecting at all, he had to say. No dead bodies, no bugs he wanted Gonta to get rid of, none of that. 

Instead, five pairs of eyes stared back at him. He gasped, squinting to get a better look at what he was being shown. And underneath the bed were… 

“...Cats?” Gokuhara muttered, trying to process what he was seeing. There were five of them, their fur in various shades of grey. They all appeared to be kittens, from what he could tell, and a few were a little scuffed up. For the most part, though, they all seemed surprisingly healthy considering the fact that they were living under a bed. 

He turned to Hoshi, expecting an explanation, but was greeted with the sight of him having taken his hat off and using it to cover his face. His unintelligible muttering continued, though at this point it was clear that he was simply abashed. “Where did you- Gonta means, what-”

Hoshi sighed, rubbing his temples. “The woods at the edge of campus. I was having a smoke, and I found them. I couldn’t just  _ leave _ them there, so I…” He trailed off, snapping out of his embarrassed stupor for a second to stare Gokuhara hard in the eyes. “You know about animals. So I need you to help.” 

Gokuhara took a moment to consider his proposal. On one hand, he didn’t think of the tennis player as someone whom a gentleman such as himself should be affiliating with. But on the other hand, it seemed innocent enough. He wasn’t asking him for his assistance in any crimes or murders, he was just asking him to help him take care of some cats. Gokuhara was better with bugs, but he  _ was _ good with most animals.

After mulling it over for a while, he nodded. “Okay! Gonta will do it.” Hoshi’s expression didn’t change much, but he did stop death-staring him dead in the eyes, which he was grateful for. “But… why does it need to be a secret?” 

“Hmph. I knew you would ask that.”

“You did?”

Hoshi took a piece of salmiakki from one of the boxes and put it between his teeth. “Yes. I know everything.” 

“...Oh.”

“But really,” Hoshi admitted, “The ‘tough guy with a soft side’ trope is very hackneyed and trite. If anyone else were to know about this, I would be made a parody of myself,”

Gokuhara didn’t really understand what he was talking about, but he feigned comprehension. The two agreed to meet up again later to try and figure out the cat situation.

 

Kokichi Ouma burst into the cafeteria looking as though he had heard the news of a lifetime. “Hey, everyone,” he crowed, “Gokuhara’s dead!” 

If it were anyone else that had said that, the reaction might have been stronger. But since Ouma was a notorious liar and since the cafeteria wasn't that crowded, the people he was announcing it to seemed particularly unphased. 

“He's not dead… I just saw him this morning,” Saihara looked up from a nearby table, where he had been reading a novel. “Erm, besides, how did you know that? Did you… see him die?” 

“Uu… I didn't detect any changes in energy here, but I guess I'm too low on MP to do that,” Yumeno and Momota were playing a card game on the other side of the room, and the former was clearly winning. Momota was too consumed by planning his next move to respond. He was particularly awful at keeping a poker face. 

Ouma pinched the bridge of his nose like he was nursing a nosebleed. “I'm not lying this time, guys! I saw Hoshi-chan drag him off somewhere. You know what that means, right?” 

Saihara sighed. “‘Killer Tennis’ is known for only killing yakuza members… Gokuhara-san isn't a yakuza,” 

“You don't know that!” The supreme leader pointed an accusing finger at the detective, causing him to raise an eyebrow. “Maybe he's part of a wolf mafia!” 

“You're hopeless, Ouma-kun,” Momota groaned, running his fingers through his hair. 

As Ouma began to try and support his crackpot theories, Yumeno laid out an assortment of cards in front of Momota. “I have a run,” she announced. 

All Momota could say was “Aw, motherfucker!” as Saihara tried to ignore what was happening around him and to just read his novel in peace. 

 

About an hour later, Yumeno was making her way back to her dorm. The aggressive game of pinochle that she was playing with Momota had tired her out, and she felt as though she deserved a nap. Unfortunately for her, that nap was not in her future. She was so close, too - her hand was on the doorknob when she heard a familiar clanging noise. That could only mean one thing. Lifting her gaze, she saw Hoshi making his way down the hall, his shackle hitting the ground in a rhythmic way. He was clutching a brown paper bag in one hand, the contents of which… were soaking through the bottom and dripping onto the floor. Yumeno gulped, a sudden nervousness overtaking her, but she tried her best to act casual. “Hoi, Hoshi-san,” she said, looking down at the tennis player. “By any chance, have ya seen Gokuhara-san? No one knows where he’s got to, lately.” 

Though Hoshi’s expression didn't change, she noticed him glance in a few different directions before answering. “That's not your business,” was all he said, before walking over to his door and quietly shutting it. 

Yumeno had never ran as fast as she did when she ran back to the cafeteria that night. It was dinnertime, and as such most of her classmates were hanging around the area. Shoving the doors open with full force, her expression was as horrified as her pouty features would allow it to be. “Guys, oh my god. I think Hoshi-san really  _ did _ kill Gokuhara-san,” she painted. 

The cafeteria erupted into chaos as she described what she had seen. Ouma, leaning on a wall, rolled his eyes. “Oh, you believe her when  _ she _ says it,” he scoffed. 

 

Back in Hoshi’s room, the tennis player set the paper bag on his table and pulled a piece of meat out of it. “Are you sure this will work?” He asked, turning towards Gokuhara. 

The kittens had begun to climb him as if he were a cat tree, and the entomologist’s legs were beginning to fall asleep from the pose he was holding. “Gonta is sure! They  _ are _ carnivores, after all. By the way, did something happen out there? Gonta heard strange noises.” 

Hoshi just shrugged. “Everyone here is crazy.”

“That's not very polite to say…”

“Well, it's the truth.” 

 

The next morning at breakfast was a somber affair. Hoshi ran in, grabbed a bagel, and ran out before anyone could question him, much to Saihara’s chagrin. No one was really sure what to say about the perceived loss of their classmate. 

Ouma felt as though it was up to him, as the original announcer of Gokuhara’s disappearance, to raise everyone’s morale again. As he stood up and prepared to begin talking, though, the cafeteria doors creaked open behind him, and a familiar set of bare feet appeared on the cafeteria’s threshold. Everyone stopped in their tracks. 

Ouma, being Ouma, did not think to turn around and see what everyone was looking at. “Friends, Romans, countrymen… we have to band together to avenge Gokuhara-chan’s death! It's what he would have wanted!” 

“Gonta’s… what?” 

As the supreme leader turned around, he heard Momota scream from across the room “OH HOLY FUCK, IT’S A GHOST!” 

The supposedly deceased, Gonta Gokuhara, was standing awkwardly in the doorway. It was a miracle that he didn't buckle under the pressure of everyone’s stares. He merely pressed his fingers together. “Erm… good morning.” 

Iruma nearly fell off her chair. “Holy shit, we gotta do an exorcism or something!” Walking across the room, she went over to Shinguuji and tried to lift him up by his lapels. “You know ghost shit, do an exorcism, Shitguuji!” The anthropologist merely shrugged, not being particularly moved by Iruma’s attempts to throttle him.

Gokuhara had begun to sweat, wildly gesturing with his hands in an attempt to calm the other students down. “G-Gonta isn't dead! I'm still alive, everyone!” He shouted, as Chabashira began to throw salt in his general direction. Gradually, though, everyone began to calm down as the reality of his vitality set in. 

“So… you're alright, Gokuhara-san?” Saihara asked, concern creeping into his voice. “Yumeno-san said that Hoshi-san killed you.”

The magician pouted. “Ouma-san said it first…”

“Oh, so  _ now _ you wanna give me credit?” Ouma called from where he was standing, but Saihara continued to ignore him. 

“Ahh, no!” Gokuhara laughed nervously. “Gonta and Hoshi-san merely had some business to take care of. It's nothing to worry about!” 

From where she was sitting with Yumeno, Angie slumped over. “Aww, Angie had already started to make your memorial!” 

“My… what?” 

 

Though Hoshi remained absent for the rest of the meal, everyone soon returned to their usual demeanor. After a little while, Gokuhara finished eating and excused himself to go somewhere else, leaving everyone else alone. 

Kaede turned towards the others. “So… what do you think that ‘business’ he had to take care of was? It seems a little suspicious, honestly…” 

One person raised her hand, and the pianist looked in her general direction. “You have any ideas, Shirogane-san?”

“I do! Maybe it's forbidden love!” 

“...Any ideas aside from that?” Kaede tried to hide her exasperation, and Shirogane lowered her hand. 

Saihara had been quiet up to that point, but he shook his head. “I have a theory, but it's not a positive one. Someone as naive as Gokuhara-san associating with someone with a track record like Hoshi-san’s… I think he's turned to a life of crime.” 

Everyone gasped, except for Shinguuji, whose reaction was hidden by his facemask. “Do you intend to do anything about it?” He asked, folding his bandaged fingers on the table in front of him. 

“In this case… intervention could theoretically work. I'm not certain, though…” 

“Then it's settled!” Ouma slammed his hands on the table. “We gotta stop Gokuhara-chan from becoming a murderer!” 

“That’s not what I-” the detective began, but everyone had already begun to murmur in agreement. It appeared that they were set on doing this whether they had any proof of it or not. 

 

Hoshi sighed. “I'm being a fool.”

“Huh?” Gokuhara had been distracted, so it surprised him when he suddenly spoke up. The two of them had been taking care of the cats for a couple of days now, and Hoshi had been his characteristically quiet self for those couple of days. 

He was holding the smallest cat in the litter, making eye contact with it instead of Gokuhara as he spoke. “I've… gotten attached. I named them.” 

The entomologist held in a laugh. Despite Hoshi’s claims that he in no way possessed a soft side, some of the things he had done during their time together could even be called “cute”. Instead of chuckling, he smiled. “Really? What are their names, then?” 

He began pointing to the various cats. “Hmph. This one’s Jack,”

“Oh, Gonta thinks that’s a good name!”

“This one’s Bundy,”

“Hm?”

“These two are Dahmer and Hannibal,”

“Erm-”

“And this one…” he lifted the runt he was holding slightly. “This one is Churro.”

Gokuhara was a little confused with respect to Hoshi’s naming patterns. “Why Churro?” 

He simply shrugged. “He's brown,” he muttered, “Like a churro.” 

“What exactly is a churro?”

“A dessert. It has cinnamon on it, it's pretty good.” Hoshi scratched the back of his neck, not meeting Gokuhara’s eye. “But I can't bake, because otherwise I'd get you some.” 

Though he didn't admit it, Gokuhara was actually kind of touched by the sentiment. “Churro it is, then!” He laughed. For a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of a smile cross the tennis player’s face. 

 

What neither of them knew was that on the other side of the door, Saihara had his ear pressed up against it and was attempting to listen in. He really didn't want to impose, but it was clear that everyone else wanted to, so he reluctantly went along with it. He was accompanied by Maki Harukawa, and probably would have shirked his eavesdropping if not for the fact that her cold gaze was fixed upon him. 

She drummed her fingers absentmindedly against the pole she was leaning on. “So? Are they saying anything?”

Saihara turned to her, his face paler than normal. “I think… they're talking about serial killers. I don't know what else ‘Dahmer’ and ‘Bundy’ could be referring to… it’s odd.”

She met his gaze with a skeptical look. “So there actually  _ is _ something to this? I thought everyone was just being particularly overdramatic.”

“I thought so, too… wait, so you weren't really in on this after all?”

Harukawa shook her head. “No, I was just a bit bored. Now I'm waiting for this to be over so I can actually get some rest.”

Saihara nodded. “Me too. But… I guess we have to tell everyone what we heard, if we want this to be over.” Harukawa merely gave him a cold look in response, but he could parse her meaning. 

 

A few mornings after, Gokuhara was headed down towards the cafeteria for breakfast. Hoshi had volunteered to stay behind to watch the cats. It seemed as though he had grown very attached to them, he thought. It was an interesting thing to observe, such an interesting change in his gruff demeanor… almost like metamorphosis. He was in such deep thought about this that he didn't sense that something was off until he opened the cafeteria doors. 

The first thing that hit him was the dead silence of the room, as if it were completely empty. The tables had been pushed against the wall, and the chairs had been arranged in a circle. He counted fifteen, and noticed at the last second that the sixteenth chair had been pushed against one of the walls as if it were being shunned. Everyone was sitting in the circle, and no one was smiling. 

Oh, no. 

Toujou was the first to speak upon his entry. “Gokuhara-san, please take a seat,” she said in her usual calming voice, but there was an undertone to it that the entomologist didn't like. Hesitantly, he walked into the circle and took a seat in the only empty chair. 

There were a million thoughts running through his head, but all that came out of his mouth was “This… isn't breakfast.”

Kaede, sitting across from him, leaned over. “Gokuhara-san, you should know. We all care about you.”

“Uh…” He scratched behind his ear, anxiety beginning to catch up with him. “Gonta cares about you too?” 

Her expression soured a little, this clearly not being the answer that she wanted. “And… I know your childhood was- a little unorthodox, but you're safe here. We're your friends.”

“Gonta doesn't think Ouma is his friend.”

Ouma almost spit out his drink. “Well, I'm definitely not now!”

The entomologist shook his head, trying to make sense of the situation. “But I don't… understand. What is this?”

Kaede sighed. “Gonta, we’re trying to help you stay away from bad influences. Allow us to explain.”

At that moment, Harukawa took a raw egg and a frying pan out from under her chair, and held up the former. “This is your br-”

“Not now, Harukawa-chan,” was all that Kaede said. Sulkily, the caregiver put the items back under her chair. 

Gokuhara began to sweat, his eyes darting around from person to person. Shirogane looked sympathetic, while Chabashira was nothing but smug. Shinguuji and Amami’s expressions were unreadable. He was definitely being judged. Keeping his eyes on the ground, he started to stammer. “Erm… I… Gonta doesn't…”

Momota slammed his fist on the side of his chair. “ALRIGHT, THAT’S IT!” He shouted, before his face changed to pain for a second. “That… kind of hurt, actually,” the astronaut whimpered, before returning to his original state. “DON’T PLAY DUMB WITH US! WE KNOW YOU’RE RUNNIN’ AROUND WITH HOSHI-KUN, COMMITTING CRIMES!”

Aghast, Gokuhara couldn't think of anything to say except “I’m WHAT?” He looked around the circle at his fellow classmates, gritting his teeth as they said nothing. “What the hell is going on?”

Kiibo nearly fell out of his chair. “Such profanity…” he pointed a finger at Gokuhara. “So he  _ has _ influenced you! I knew it! My sensors sensed something weird!”

Angie just started crying. “Angie wants Gonta back!” She wailed, breaking her normal happy tone. 

“G-gonta is right here!” He stammered, panicked to the point that he wasn't even sure what he was doing. This was the third time in his life that Gokuhara feared death. Oh, dear.

Despite the chaos, Yumeno was unflappable. She simply yawned. “Hwah, this is becoming kind of a hassle. It's so-”

“GONTA!” 

In the ruckus, no one had noticed that the door had quietly creaked open, and that the one missing student had watched the affair go down. Only now did they all turn, and saw Hoshi at the door, an expression of legitimate concern on his face. Someone quietly whispered “shit”. 

“H-hoshi-kun??” Gokuhara asked, drowning out a remark from Iruma about being on a first-name-no-honorifics basis. “What are you… what are you doing here??”

Hoshi quickly scanned the room, before stating “Okay, I don't know what's going on here, but frankly I could care less,” He then fixed his gaze on Gokuhara, who noted that he had never seen him with an expression this emotional at any other point. “Churro’s gone.”

“What?” Gokuhara breathed, immediately remembering the cat. 

Everyone else looked around in confusion. “What’s that?” Momota asked. “Is it a euphemism for WEED? I knew it!”

Ouma snickered. “You're one to talk, Momota-chan.”

“Shut up!” 

Hoshi looked to his left, then to his right, then to his left again, and then back at his classmates… before pulling his hat over his face and muttering unintelligibly again. This had to be the most inopportune time for him to do that, thought Gokuhara. 

While everyone else looked confused, Toujou pressed her pointer and middle fingers to her forehead. “Please, Hoshi-san, do speak up.” 

He looked up for a split second, looking as though he was considering going back to muttering, but the icy look that Toujou gave him made him do otherwise. Almost shamefully, he stared at his classmates. “I suppose there’s no use hiding it,” Hoshi said, In a move that no one foresaw, he took off his beanie and held it against his chest in an almost deferent gesture. “Gokuhara and I have been raising cats.”

It was safe to say that no one was expecting that to be what was going on, as they just stared at the tennis player, then at the entomologist.There was a moment of silence wherein everyone tried to put two and two together. Kaede was the first one to speak. “I… what?” 

Putting his hat back on, Hoshi recounted the whole story - with occasional interruptions from Gokuhara when the former got too dramatic about things. The looks of realization on the other students’ faces were practically photo-worthy. 

“Jesus. We thought that Hoshi-san was turning you into a criminal, Gokuhara-san,” Yumeno grumbled, still looking particularly tired. 

The tennis player just grimaced. “A better person would be angry about that, but it’s a smart decision not to trust someone like me.” 

“But…” Saihara just appeared stupefied. “It’s just cats?”

Gokuhara watched as Hoshi chewed on his candy. “If I had told any of the rest of you, I would have been reduced to a mere ‘tough guy with a soft side’ stereotype. My entire character, gone for the sake of gap moe.”

Momota muttered, “What are you even talking about?”

Amami, who had been quiet up to that point, folded his hands in his lap. “Personally, I don’t think it’s a big deal. I mean, Ouma-kun still sleeps with a stuffed animal.”

Gokuhara wondered how he knew that. All Ouma had to say about that was “Oh, you BITCH.” Amami appeared to not care about what he thought, though. 

Kaede sighed. “I think we all learned a valuable lesson today. I’m sorry, Gonta-kun,”

Gokuhara smiled. “Gonta forgives you!”

“The lesson is that none of you really know any of the signs of a developing delinquent,” Hoshi leered, back to his old self. “One day, I’ll really turn him into a criminal and none of you will notice.”

“Don’t do that to Gonta, Hoshi-san…” 

“Hey. Kidding. Or am I?”

“Hoshi-saaan…”

“...I am.”

 

The rest of the morning was somewhat of a blur. They eventually managed to locate Churro - he had gotten stuck in a tree outside of the main building, in one way or another. It was ironic, really - Hoshi had kept talking about tropes, and here he was, face to face with one. The world was strange, sometimes. It took him sitting on Gokuhara’s shoulders and Toujou prodding a branch with a broom to get the cat down. The other students passed it around, and as they watched Angie and Shirogane play with the tiny kitten, Gokuhara put an arm around Hoshi’s shoulders in an act of camaraderie. A strange sense of pride washed over the tennis player.

...And then Churro bit Ouma on the hand, and he screamed. What a way to end the day. 

**Author's Note:**

> A couple of notes:
> 
> \- "salmiakki" is a type of Finnish candy. It's salty black licorice.  
> \- as for Angie's mention of "Stuart Semple": google the feud between Stuart Semple and Anish Kapoor. It's worth it, trust me.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed!! i really like this pairing even though it's not popular at all haha,,,  
> Comments are always appreciated and cherished!


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